My New Habit
by Asana
Summary: He was acquitted on all counts. He could swim in gratitude and praise at all social events. But he still rarely received visitors, who, by the way, were actually in no hurry to see him. But suddenly there was a knock at the door. Who's there?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: My New Habit

**Author**: Asana Zwerg

**Rating**: M for reason and for slash. Don't like – don't read!

**Spoilers**: Set after the end of the 7th book. So, yeah, spoilers for the end of the series. But it is a short AU so nothing serious.

**Size**: will be ~6k words

**Warnings**: there's nothing you should be warned about what you can't understand from the rating and the summary.

**Genre**: Romance, humor, a bit of drama.

**Disclaimer**: I own neither Harry Potter, nor any of the characters of the series. No profit – just for fun!

**Summary**: He was acquitted on all counts. He could swim in gratitude and praise at all social events. But he still rarely received visitors, who, by the way, were actually in no hurry to see him. But suddenly there was a knock at the door. Who's there?

**Chapter 1**

There was an unpleasant sound of the glass vial breaking on the worn stones of the floor. Within three seconds a man watched angrily as a beautiful silver powder scattered in waves around the fragments of the vial and hided in the gaps between floor plates.

"Damn," he cursed baring his teeth for a moment as if in pain.

That was not the first time in the last couple of months when the man gave up the slack in his hands and dropped bottles of ingredients. In the past times this delight cost him extra one or two galleons from his pocket. This time, however, he will have to shell out not less than ten. Maybe more.

With an uneven gait the man came to the locker and from the top section he pulled out a wooden box with tiny tools. With still trembling thin fingers he extracted a little broom and a shovel. Returning to the table, he leaned over to the broken vial and in careful slow movements began to whisk silver granules onto the shovel, thinking that soon he will have to scrape them from dust very carefully.

The reason of weakness was the fact that only a few months have passed since the moment when the man came out of the St. Mungo. Or rather since he escaped from there. He probably would have died if he had had to endure more of instructions from those damn nurses and consume more potions that were no good at all. Well, maybe they were not that bad. But this did not change anything. The man was sure that he was soon going to drive everyone crazy purely out of spite, for going mad himself was not possible. He deliberately tried to find faults in every action and kept saying something like: "To die out there on the floor would have been better than to drink this potions. Try to test them on hedgehogs — they will certainly throw off their needles. You'll get famous."

That's why the man was again in his rooms in the dungeons of Hogwarts. But just until the new school year starts. Not that he was afraid to see the expressions of disgust or distrust on people's faces. He did not care what they thought. He could not just go back to the place where he lived for such a long time before ... Before. The man planned to shut down from everyone in his house on the Spinner's End and make potions quietly and peacefully, selling them to people in need just to earn a living.

Despite the fact that he was acquitted on all counts, received the Order of Merlin and could swim in gratitude and praise at all social events, potions master still could not grow out of constant oppression of double life. He still rarely received visitors, who, by the way, were actually in no hurry to see him. Previously, his most frequent guest was Albus, but now... now he could not be a guest. At that thought the man shuddered and for a moment his neck stiffened. Evanescent grimace of pain, and here he was – again whisking the silver dust from the floor.

And suddenly there was a knock at the door. In surprise the man almost dropped the shovel of powder from his hands, but regained his posture in time. He did not want to open the door even if that was the Merlin himself. Deciding to pretend that he is not here the man froze in the same gnarled pose near the oak table. There was a knock again. "No rustling" he ordered himself.

"Severus, I know your are here," a stern female voice was as distant as a knock on the door.

"Damn that woman," the man cursed quietly, standing up from the floor gently so as not to scatter all that carefully collected powder.

Putting the shovel on the table, he spread the folds of his mantle and went to open the door. He walked slowly in order to prolong this moments of precious solitude. Once approaching the door noislessly, the potions master stopped for a moment trying to throw off nervousness from his shoulders.

That knock again – more persistent this time. Obeying some malevolent impulse, the man opened the door abruptly. A woman, as he expected, flinched in surprise.

"Good day, Minerva." Snape coldly greeted her with his arms crossed on his chest so that his hands were hidden in the sleeves of the mantle. "What brought you to me?"

In fact the man treated Minerva McGonagall with an excessive respect and even... warmth. But none of the fibers of his dull – as he prefered to think – soul were going to give it away.

"You have not had guests for a long time, Severus," at this point the man twitched faintly, thinking that thoughts, damn them, are material.

"And so you decided to brighten up my colorless evening? There are enough gray colors in it," Severus glanced at woman's clothes. Well, he could not resist the taunts.

"No, Severus," Minerva swallowed the remark, as if it had never been spoken. "There is a _brighter_ person, who has a wish to do that."

Somehow Severus suddently felt uncomfortable. He wanted to shut the door, put a million of locking spells on it along with a bunch of barn locks. And then to do the same with the door to his workshop.

"And who is that self-murderer?" he asked instead.

"You can come out," Minerva spoke to somebody in the shadows to the left. "It seems that professor Snape is not in a mood for a bloody murder today."

The last thing Severus managed to do was to think that Minerva is capable of humor. From the darkness of the corridor approached the one whom Snape wanted to see the least.

"Good afternoon, Severus."

This manner of greeting made the man explode in a fit of irritation.

"Who allowed you to call me by my first name, Mr. Potter?"

"Nobody..." the young man stood before him with an angelic smile. "Severus".

"Minerva, if you think that you are doing me good by bringing here this tutorial on how to be a narcissistic egomaniac, then you are wrong!" the man was well aware that at this point he was breaking down in front of the one who always wanted to see it.

"Severus," the woman said adamantly. "You should socialize more. Especially with those who saved your life."

"Do not remind me of that. I have no problems with memory as of yet," Severus snapped.

At that moment he heard a muffled cough from Potter. Turning to him he saw him shifting from foot to foot and fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt. The man noted that the boy was rather excited and obviously did not know what to do. Excellent. Potter was still arrogant, but not excessively so.

"Come in, Potter," he heard his own voice. "Just do not make yourself at home, please."

"Don't build your hopes up," the boy muttered walking into the room and trying not to touch Snape.

"Will you join us, Minerva?" Severus asked politely.

"I think you should talk alone," the witch answered with the same courtesy.

"Remind me, Minerva, to add some crushed rhizome hemlock to you sleeping pills the next time you ask me," Severus said casually.

"With pleasure," Minerva playfuly aswered to Snape's threat. "See you soon, Severus, Harry."

And with a nod she departed, her heels clicking on the stone floor of the dungeons. Severus closed the door but before turning to face Potter he took a deep breath. He had to stay patient.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus closed the door but before turning to face Potter he took a deep breath. He had to stay patient.

"Potter," he said on the exhale, turning sharply to the intruder.

"You can call me by my name," Harry said calmly, without even a tint of arrogance.

"I cannot grant you with the same opportunity," Severus tried to make his voice even colder than before. He looked at the young man, sitting in a chair in front of a fireplace and examining Snape shamelessly from head to toe.

"You came here without permission and now you have the audacity to unceremoniously scrutinize... my quarters. And I have to put up with it?" Snape asked slightly irritably.

"No-no," said Harry, coming to his senses and looking up to face the man. "It's just... I just haven't seen you for a long time, professor."

"Excellent," with feigned relief said Severus. "At least now you address to me as you should."

"Excuse me," the boy answered quickly, "but I call you as I want to. After the events of the last year, I've got a mixed idea of what is proper and what is not. Besides, you're not my teacher anymore."

Severus wanted to gush with a caustic speech, but stopped himself. He realized that he knew what this Potter boy felt. This Hero of War. He himself had had a moment long ago when everything that was possible had mixed in his head. Black and white had merged and didn't allow him to understand how to behave. But then it all had turned gray one day. There had been no clear lines anymore, and it was this understanding that had given Severus a chance to sort things through. If the boy who was sitting in front of him now with, fingers clutched in the lock, had enough force to do the same, he would become more resourceful than Snape had been some years ago.

"Then let me help you to understand some things," Severus replied calmly approaching the fireplace. He saw surprise in the eyes of Potter. "I am not supposed to be called by my first name."

And then to Severus' amazement Potter started to laugh.

"Thank you, Professor," he said, still laughing, "Now it will be much easier to live!"

Severus understood that he could not control Potter's behavior. He realized that the boy had gone through a lot recently and all those events had helped him to get rid of the feeling of the age difference with the man, who was almost dead for a year. And, perhaps, to get rid of... the hate towards him? At this thought potions master almost fell into a stupor.

"So why did you decide to visit me now? I won't believe that you've missed my company all this time."

"You've been unconscious for no less than three months. Will you believe me if I say that I was worried about you?"

"If so, you would have visited me during the next seven months, when I was conscious and led my dull life in the chambers for Persons Who Require Special Treatment and Attention, where apart from me there were several abnormal and demented wizards.

"Oh," Potter exclaimed apologetically, "that's me who asked to accomodate you there. I thought that you would appreciate the small number of neighbors."

"I'm sorry?" Snape enquired. "You asked for... what?"

"To put you there," Potter obviously had fun. "Who else would they listen to, but the Hero of War? I threatened them that if they tell you about it, I will lay hands on myself. And you know what? They believed."

Severus noted to himself the feeling with which Potter pronounced his status in the wizarding world. Did he began to treat his position in their mad society ironically? After all, he had always been ready to break the wall with his head as long as it helped to be unnoticed. Which served the opposite purpose, of course. Swearing to himself, the potions master went on with a look of contempt on his face:

"I am, of course, thankful to you, Potter, but I hope that you will someday come down to understand that loneliness is when you're either _totally_ alone or when among a thousand of people. Three crazy elderly aurors are not included into this understanding of loneliness."

"Well, you've always thought I'm not very smart. So why forget about that now?"

And that's how serenity crumbles, built during the year of loneliness and the belief that nothing more could surprise or make you nervous. All the recent months Severus had thought that nothing else could shake his mind. He had gone through things that would have killed someone else immediately. But suddenly a nineteen year old boy tumbled into his rooms and his soul and smashed everything that Snape had come to believe. He did not even notice that he was clatching the back of the empty chair, behind which he was trying to hide from Potter.

"I was hoping that you became smarter this year, Mr. Potter," he answered belatedly and felt a desire to get rid of the guest by any means. "I'm very touched by your attention, but I still want to ask about the real reason of your visit. If there is none, I have to inform you – with a great grief – that I have some urgent business that requires my immediate attention."

"I have come to ask you to stay in a position of Potions professor."

"What?" Severus exclaimed nervously, but then calmed down. "Minerva."

"Yes," Harry smiled, obviously pleased with the reaction of the man. Severus was even more stunned from Potter's direct answer.

"I hope you do understand, Potter, that I cannot stay in this position," and Snape prepared a row of millions of arguments in support.

"Oh that I understand, don't you worry," the young man replied, grinning impudently. Severus was quite confused. And then Harry jumped out of his chair to the one that was hiding Severus, and put his hands on the armrests. "So I came to offer you to open your own workshop."

From this proximity of the guest who became even more hated for the last five minutes, Severus could hardly resist from taking a step backwards. But he only raised his chin higher.

"I do have neither desire nor opportunities for such an endeavor, Mr. Potter. Your _crazy_ ideas just take my precious time, so I ask you to –"

"Severus!" Harry knew now how to get the attention of the potions master. "I will be your sponsor. You'll open the workshop for my money, but it will be yours. Part of the income, of course, will be mine, but you will be able to buy everything you need for the job."

Severus was lost in thought. He himself wanted to spend the rest of his life in his house making potions, but he had no plans to open the whole mass production. More so together with Potter. But to return to Hogwarts – he just had no desire.

He was also intrigued by the fact that the boy goes against the Minerva's request, which proved that his interest was genuine. There was not much argument against his proposal, except the very presence of the Potter boy. Severus was just about to open his mouth and say that he needed time to think, when Potter hastily said:

"You've got five seconds, professor. If you do not give the answer, I won't turn to you with this proposal anymore. One," and he began to bend the fingers of his right hand, "two, three, four..."

The young man obviously hesitated with bending his last finger. For a few seconds they looked silently at each other.

"I accept your offer, Mr. Potter," Severus uttered, not forgetting however to make such a face, as if he was informed of the fact that he will have guests every day now.

"That's good news, Professor!" Harry clapped his hands. "Now I need to come up with an excuses for McGonagall, as to why I was not able to convince you..."

"You have not done that yet?" Severus rolled his eyes.

"No," Potter smiled apologetically. "I'll tell her that you're a hard-nosed sheep."

"Surely," Severus replied icily, "That would be very much in your style, Potter."

"Well, can't help myself. Then I advice you to pack up your belongings. Your home is waiting for you. And your workshop. See you soon, Professor."

Winking at Severus, Potter left the room hastily. As soon as the door closed behind him, Severus walked around the chair and sank wearily into it. He was crushed by Potter's offer. There was just one week left until the end of holidays, and he knew that he would see the boy as soon as he moved to his house. In that he was sure. But most of all he was unnerved not by the fact that he would have to talk to Potter more often, but by the the fact that Potter had talked to him the way he communicated with his friends.

Remembering about his unfinished work on sorting ingredients, Severus stood up to go back to his cabinet. He was going to forget about Potter and his offer at least for another week.


End file.
